Feminine ferocity

Why spoil the surprise? It’s good for boys to be terrified. Anyway, it won’t be for long.
Together they can stand tall to fight oppression. Or not.
It doesn’t matter on so many different levels, that it’s a little odd she’s asking. If she really needed my opinion, she could beat it out of me, after all.
Makes you long for those long summer days, when she used to pick up tanned guys on the beach.
Remarkably, for both husbands it is the one thing they could reasonably claim to be good at, so it’s a real clash of titans.
You will report any staring violations, won’t you? Yes: thought you would.

The lovely and sadly retired Lady Sophia Black.

Thrashing out an agreement

Many people think that any deals thrashed out in the context of a long-term femdom relationship will inherently be unfair to the male, but it’s just not true. Every time my SO and I have come to an agreement about something, the deal has always involved my getting something I value: an imminent prospect of the cessation of pain, for example. That’s usually a lot more important to me than whatever it is I have to give up in exchange. So it’s a win-win, really.

It has to make both of them laugh, mind. It would be easy enough just to set Mistress Eleise off, as she loves a good ‘dumb blonde’ joke and will burst out in fits of giggles if she hears a new one. Try it if (as I have been) you are ever privileged enough to session with her – it can lighten the mood, especially if you have requested a heavy session. The ‘dumber’ the blonde character the better, take it from me: your experience will be memorable.

The wonderful, magnificient Eleise de Lacy, of course, and the delightful Miss Woods who has not had to suffer the unpleasantness of Servitor’s proximity.

Love, honour and obey as long as you both shall live.
I’m told a good way to teach males to curtsey deeply is to suspend a heavy weight on a short chain from their testicles. Ducking far enough down relieves the pain, briefly, you see. Another good way is to inflict unbearable pain on them until they get it right. Or why not try both?
Very true. She got only four out of twenty on her last test, so I’m afraid he’s really going to have to suffer.
Underwater cunnilingus can be quite hazardous to the male health even with ladies who don’t actually get off on drowning you, unless either they can reach orgasm really quickly or the male has oxygenated very thoroughly. Proceed with caution and if in doubt: try it first with someone who really doesn’t matter.

…and an extra one with an absurdly long caption, why not:

I’m not sure Mrs Hudson is going to be too happy about that. Especially as Holmes still has 150 of his 500 punishment lines to write: “It was thoroughly disrespectful of me to frown when Mrs Hudson smashed my violin, giving us all a much-needed respite from my tuneless playing.”

The Facility

New occasional theme that’ll be included in regular posts from time to time, but I thought I’d introduce it in a themed post. Brutal, non-consensual – if you don’t like those things… well, you’re probably reading the wrong blog to begin with, quite frankly.

Faith, hope and chastity

Wow – Kurt’s just the gift that keeps on giving, isn’t he? For next year she’ll probably change the system so it’s the average number of fucks she gets a night that’s your annual limit, rather than the maximum, but for now I guess you get to let yourself go! Or rather, she gets to let you let yourself go.
They’re not the first. Many visitors to the OWK castle reported hearing the rattling of chains and far-off moaning.
Males who were bullies at school usually fail miserably in the workplace, which can be cheering for their victims who end up pursuing successful careers. Female bullies, on the other hand, have the option of a very highly paid career (at least on an hourly rate basis), should they choose to follow it. Or she could be a historian – I mean, her take on Henry VIII is fresh and seems to convey an important truth about the world.
She should have it put it away in a cupboard before someone gets hurt. No where’s that lazy husband of hers, just when he could make himself useful? Oh. Oh yes.
Annoyingly the show cut to a commercial break immediately after this comment and when it returned David, although somewhat red-faced and out of breath, was much more polite. I’ve made enquiries about whether the cameras kept rolling during the break and whether footage exists, but some large gentlemen from Ms Johanssen’s entourage came to inform me that I was wasting my time.

What a forward old man David was, to be sure.

Her opinions

 …although I share them, obviously, even the ones I haven’t been told about.

 

She’s taking this very casually at the moment, but don’t worry: I’m sure it’ll come up again in the next weekly reminder session.



Best to get it over quickly.  After all, the whole point of chastity play is the chastity, not the orgasms.  Some men don’t get that, at first.



Deniably, that is.  I’m sure she could think of many, many things he could die of, were it not for the pettifogging legal system.


As it turned out, he did indeed ‘experience fresh challenges while continuing to deepen his existing skill set’ in his session with Strict Madame Lydia, so that worked out well too.


She gets a lot of job satisfaction.  Not just the pain she gets to inflict, obviously, because she’s a professional with a keen interest in social rehabilitation.  No: it’s the humiliation and the misery, too.



Ladylike behaviour

A caption from the days before teleworking, of course.  These days busy executives can do a full working day and tawse their husbands as often as needed, all without even leaving the house.



Obviously, men are allowed in the toilets to clean them – but that’s a privilege reserved for the best-behaved and longest-serving residents.




If they put that finding together with the body profile they deduced from the outsized maid outfit also found in your house, they just might get a clear picture of what happened.  Science is great, isn’t it?  Just ask Serena and Alice.

Some people who are generally quite dim can turn out to be brilliant at maths.  Just like some of us with quite high IQs can often be fucking useless stupid morons – or as often as I can afford to pay people to tell me I am, anyway.




He must have very good genes.  Shame there’s no question of them being passed on to the next generation.






De-toxifying masculinity

I suspect she’s already got the job on the basis of her proven leadership potential.

 

 

 

At least twelve years… and that’s subject to good behaviour.  Admittedly, almost every single inmate is on his very best behaviour every second of every day, from about day two or three onward…. but nonetheless, somehow very few of them manage to qualify for early release.  I suppose the wardens are just being careful, bless them… protecting the public.

 

 


Not sure permission to kneel was actually formally given, there, was it?  Hmmm.

 

It must be a lot of fun having an underground swimming pool – this rich couple I know had one constructed, and I’m not sure I’ve seen the husband since it was completed.  Apparently he spends all his time down there.


 

 

 

Oh, right.  Well, if Raoul has needs, obviously that’s different.  Sigh.

 

 

Nonjudgemental cruelty

Hmmm… nothing springs to mind. Still, as long as the two of you are talking about it, that’s a good start.



There’s also a scheme now to get paid to feed power back into the grid, which might explain why so many dommes these days have started offering treadmill sessions.

 

 

 

All kinds of feelings can be communicated through dance: humiliation, shame, timidity… it’s a very expressive medium.

 

 

He won’t be able to afford to pay for any more domination sessions, poor chap, but maybe he’ll have had his fill of that sort of thing by then.



 


Fortunately it is a mistake that is easy to rectify.  Easy for the person doing the actual rectifying, anyway.

 

 

″‘You are fettered,’ said Scrooge, trembling. ‘Tell me why?’

Bah humbug.  Have some Christmas-themed captions and then that’s done for another year, thank goodness.


Oh well.  Time to pretend socks were the thing you wanted most of all in the world. Don’t you hate it when that happens?  All those little hints. Still, Angie’s right: you always need socks.




Oh dear: looks like the start of one of those Christmas rows. One advantage of the sort of relationship this blog celebrates, though, is that such unpleasantness is usually quickly and painfully resolved without upsetting anyone who matters.


Just give it a try.  She’s got this magnetic clicker thing to unlock it, somewhere. I tried one a few years back and I can honestly say it’s changed my life.




They try to get into the Christmas spirit at the Male Re-education Centres.  The joke they like to play on recently-castrated sex offenders with the ‘pass the parcel’ game is getting a little stale, these days, but at least they’re trying to keep things cheerful and festive, in otherwise grim surroundings.


Mistress Eleise with a cane.  And they say there’s no wonder or magic in the world any more.



Actually, Ian has got a present for you, of a sort. He hasn’t told her because she might try to stop him.  But that’ll just have to be a surprise.



…and an extra one.  Hey, why not – it’s Christmas!

Maybe time to try that 2000 piece jigsaw your aunt gave you – you know, to take your mind off things.



Superior sex

 She is it, and she also has it.


Perhaps you should discuss her salary expectations soon, as I think right now they are increasing rapidly.


She uses ‘cruelty free’ cosmetic products but I’m afraid that attitude extends only to animals. Non-human animals, I mean.


The system is open to abuse by women seeking to save money on nursing care for their elderly male relatives unfortunately. But a recent inquiry into the prevalence of false accusations of crminal sexism concluded (a) that it was not so very high and (b) that the old bastards probably deserved it anyway. So that’s all right.


Imagine putting her to so much trouble. And he calls himself submissive…


The lady visting OWK in this pastoral scene is Goddess Sophia, whose cages, canes and (most memorably) gloriously swishy rubber dress Servitor has had the honour to experience – and can thoroughly recommend to UK-based subs. She may or may not still be in business and is not the lady of the same name in Portsmouth, who I am sure is equally lovely.

I imagine Douglas knows many things they don’t… lots of secret little thoughts.







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